Broken during the Fall
by Red-Wayne-Hood
Summary: After an ecounter with the Joker and Scarecrow on Christmas Eve, Jason is found outside of Wayne Manor, bloody and severly injured. Even after being deemed stable of his wounds, the Red Hoods is different. Distant, getting flashbacks, crying out at night, and more troubling things only add up to a single thought- has Jason, the Red Hood, fallen a time to many? No OC’s.
1. Chapter 1: Abyss

It was cold. Freezing. Thirty-two point six degrees Fahrenheit, to be exact. Jason shivers through his bloodstained shirt, face, and jacket, and trudges miserable through the two feet of snow, that night of December twenty-fifth...the day before children- good, bad, side-kick, and ordinary, would be waking up all around the world to rip open a multitude of colored presents of who-knows-what.

It a was cold, freezing, and miserable night. Jason half-heartedly curses at himself for being so reckless and _useless_. He clutches at the large wound at his right side, unable to attend to the large gash on his chest or the shards of red that are poking out of his left jaw. The left half of his domino mask remains, the right torn off to reveal his slightly clouded blue eyes.

 _It had been Joker and Scarecrow instead of a drug market. Joker and Scarerow... not a pretty combination. A guy who fell into a boiling vat of chemicals and a dude obsessed with a weird, created theory of the connection between hay stuffed cloth and phobia._

 _And people thought the Bats were crazy._

 _He'd been a fool to go by himself._ He stops to push open a cold, black gate. _Batman had decided to stay hone from patrol that day. Two reasons: the two feet of snow and spending time with the four people he loved the most- Dick, Tim, Damian, and Alfred. No Jason, no waward Robin, no murderer, no_ monster. _So, Jason waves off the invitation to stay the night with a cup of Alfreds intricate made cocoa and warm blankets and cookies, instead to get slashed on the chest, get a shattered helmet that impaled some of his face, a cut torso that was pummeled by a crowbar, and not to mention breathing in a large amount of either old or a new form of fear toxin._

The worst part was that the two villains _got away._ Damn it- he didn't realize where he was in his delirium. He looks across the snow to see a huge manor, looming and threatening with its spires covered with the days snow and frost. He picks up a handful of snow, pressing it to his side wound to hopefully slow down the bleeding. He hisses as skin meets slush, almost instantly soaking the pristine white precipitation an uneven multitude of reds.

He feels dizzy and heavy- like how he thinks death actually is like instead of a fiery ball of pain pain _pain_. _The crowbar falls again. "What hurts? A-" hit, "or B?" wack. C, he thinks to himself. C- the pain of being the Outsider, the pain of being thrown out and disregarded like a reusable lighter... except that can be refilled with more liquid- this being is empty and unable to be complete again._

He shakes his head, removing himself from the thoughts. His legs are soaked till above the knee. Snow is inside his boots, numbing his feet more than they had been before. He heavily leans against the window seal, staringg through the window, light flooding out onto the bloodstained snow.

Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Damian are on a long couch, wrapped in blankets and sipping cocoa while laughing at the television screen. Dicks ebony hair is messy, and he laughs while eating a cookie, laughing the crumbs out. Damians green-blue eyes stare at his part-time mentor, a weird half smile and motion of disgust on his lios. Timothy is staring at the screen, turning his head to look at Alfred- who is on a cozy recliner- in utter disbelief and shock. Then he sees Bruces face.

It has a huge smile on it, and his eyes are sparkling with a rarely seen amount of pure happiness.

At that moment, Jason realizes that thats the perfect family. He rests his hand in the lower part of the window, the bloodstained shape of a hand smearing across the window. He doesn't have the heart to knock on the window, or even call out. He doesn't want to ruin the lerfect moment... and in truth, he doesn't really want to be rescued. Not this time- he's too tired, they don't need him any more.

His hand falls from the window, and his body waves like a building during ansting gust of wind. He falls to his right, his wound and uncovered eye falling into the snow. He curls in in himself, a shard of hope in the back of his mind that his... family would somehow come and save him from the abyss he was falling him, the abyss that lead into the arms of a stark white man with a bloody crowbar.

 *** - they are watching a video of old memoirs that had been recorded. Tim is staring at Alfred in shock after watching a clip of Alfred in a Shakespeare play- a Midsummers Night Dream- which also had his ex fiance in the cast. This is from Batman New 52, in which both Dick and Bruce are present first hand to watch.**


	2. Found

Bruce Waynes eyes are glued on the lit up prototype Wayne Tech 3D television screen. He doesn't need to look around to tell that even Damians mind is pulled into the funny videos of each family member, including the biological child himself. And how did he know this? He's the god damn Batman.

Tim is lounging on the couch, drink finished, and closest to Alfred, who is buried beneath the softest quilt in the manor. His phone is in his lap, having just finished recording some of the video for future blackmail. The screen lights up in alert of the app he had created and connected to all of the security systems in all Wayne properties. He frowns.

"Hey, Bruce?" the elder looks at him, eyes questioning him to speak if his comment is more important than the video. The two engage in a silence conversation, created out of slight, nano sized eye movement, changes in breathing depth, and random mental guesses.

"What is it Tim?" says Bruce as the screen on the TV turns black, video finished. Dick and Damian mumble and grumble in unison.

"Tt", says Damian. "What is your commentary, Drake?" Dick snickers.

"Motions sensors detected...motion outside of the manor." Timothy untangles himself from the blankets he had, followed by his two other adopted brothers, minus one who probably wasn't even invited. 'Gees, its cold' he thinks.

"Any signs of heat?" says Bruce. Timothy unlocks his phone, entering the app and checking some tables. His brow furrows.

"Yah...on the east side of the manor, right by the outside wall." In comedic unison, five heads turn left to stare at the large window, where there was a bloody, smeared handprint that showed through the frost. They jump from the couch, except for Alfred, and rush to the door.

"Oh f-" starts Dick, before Alfred speaks.

"Language, master Dick."

"Its english."

The boys and man rush outside, immediately spotting the crumpled, curled up, bloody figure of Jason.

Hoo! That was a quick second chapter, showing how the awesome Red Hood may not die...or live! And I reread Words by AnotherBitedTheDust. Its absolutely amazing, and what inspired me to start this fic, but Im so sad that its on hiatus.


	3. Chapter 3: Nighttime Affairs

**Alrighty! Sonsorry for the long wait (elevator music plays), but I had to do last minute Science Fair and semester finals (how the hell does chemistry have so much info!?). So, here I present Chapter Three. And watch Star Trek ( _not_ Original- other than that its not as bad as everyone thinks, they didn't even watch it).**

It wasn't Bruce who found him. Or Dick. Or Tim. It was the demon slawn, the one whose wrath is as dramatic as a terrorist explosion and as harmful as a clementine. The short child was followed closely by his father and brothers. No one exchanged any comments, they jut let Bruce kneel down and pick up the teen, who doesn't react at all to the motion.

Alfred was prepared already. Blankets were folded in a row on the smallest couch, leaving the largest one for Jason to lay in. "My God, what has happened to Master Jason this time?" He pulls on ever present latex gloves from his pocket, quickly slipping them on as Dick and Tim rush off to get medical supplies from one of the nearby spare closets - they were ready for everything.

"Okay... I got some tweezers, needles, surgical thread, alcohol, and some-"

"Stuff", interrupts Damian, swiping a flower vase onto the floor and dragging the stand next to the couch, where he put all of the materials in a large steel tray. He acted gruff, serious, and straightforward, but he was worried, curious, and in disbelief.

Meanwhile, Alfred had Bruce help him. They quickly temporarily binded the wound at his side, Alfred thanking the gods (Diana was really getting to the butler...) and statung how that wounds bloodflow had been staunched by the severe cold. Damian and Tim gently started to slide the shards of helmet from the wayward sons face, carefully to apply a numbing ointment around the shard before removing it. They were so thin, scarring would be minimal and fade quickly.

Alfred had stripped Jason of his shirt and Jacket, ignoring the small cuts, bruises, and previous scars in his chest. He was focused in only sowing up his chest.

An hour later, a moniter and drip was connected to Jasons arm, the other five people resting on the coffee table.

Bruce was holding his second eldest sons hand, although Tim was wondering how old Jason was, since he has been dead for a while.

Jason had no movement, except for the occasional twitch of an arm, leg, or face muscle. Dick was starting to get curious. The bloodstain on the window had obviously been his, so why hadn't he bothered to knock or shout out? Even exhaustion or a serious wound couldn't distract his brother from his goal. Jad he been affected by something else? He decided to share his worries as Alfred got up to heat up some bread and lather it with butter and sugar, with a side of some cups of BatCoffee.

"Bruce... I don't think we've dealt with all of his injuries." Three heads turn to him in sync.

"Dick, only talk if your sure. It could be the exhaustion, and I'll understand. Its getting pretty late." Dick nods.

"I know." He was sure, as he thought he saw Jasons face quickly contort into a small grimace. "I think that he's inhaled something, like Joker Toxin or Fear Gas." Timothy frowns.

"He's not showing any symptoms- its been an hour since we found him, and maybe another or half since he got these injuries." Dick nods, partially annoyed.

"I know, but maybe its something new! We can't risk making any mistakes. Maybe what we thought something was is something else... just like _last_ time." Bruce stiffens. He gently releases Jasons hand back on the couch.

"I think its time for some rest. He turns to Alfred, who just came with the warm bread and steaming drinks. Bruce looks at his friend apologetically. His father figure seems to understand, turning back and putting the stove on low, putting the stainless steal tray/handless pan onto the stove.

"Good night, masters. Coffee, cocoa, and bread is on the stove if you are tonwake up. It is warm." He retreats down the hallway, followed by Tim, Damian, and a reluctant Dick. As much as Bruce wanted to stay and be there for his son, he hadn't had more than three hours of sleep in a week. And he _did_ have one more night after this free of patrol

Bruce goes up to his room. Ten minutes later, all members of the household are alseep.

 _Meanwhile..._

Jasons eyes shoot open. His eyes aren't full lazarus green anymore, but his original blue with four or five small, almost insignificant specks of green. His pupils are wide and his mouth opens and his boy begins to thrash.

He screams.

 **Suspense!**


	4. Chapter 4: Scream

**First off, I am so very sorry for making you wait this long- I mean three months isn't _that_ long (he he he). So, just putting it forward first, I got lazy, like really lazy, so I put off typing and just went with reading fics, get my mind working and burn some calories. Then, I discovered a wonderful show called _Doctor_ _Who_ , and after finishing all of 11 and the first season lf 10, I am back, baby! Now, off with the authors note, here is the next chapter!**

Screaming. Bruce's eyes snap open, reflexes kicking in. He rolls of the bed like a pro, landing in a slight crouch before running forward and pulling the door open, racing down the hallways and stairs to the common room. Bruce slows down, being the first one there, and takes in what he see's, his throat constricting. In a moment, he snaps out of it and rushes to a kneel beside's his son, holding on to his flailing arms by the wrists.

"Jason! Snap out of it!" says Bruce. The screaming had turned to sobs, his eyes squeezed shut with tear tracks down his face. "Shh, it's alright," says Bruce, letting go of a wrist to stroke the boys dark hair. He wanted to hold him, to hug him. Anything to comfort his son. Guilt rises in Bruce. Jason was his son, and Bruce hadn't acted like a father to him in...years.

Jason stops thrashing, instead shivering and curling around where Bruce held him, as if he were scared that it would go away. He looks at his son, seeing that one of the stitches at his son's side had come out, blood beginning to slowly seep from it. "Hey, Jaybird." Says Bruce. He'd heard Dick call him that sometimes, and remembered when he used to when Jason had been Robin. "One of your stitches have come loose. I'm going to pull my hand away, alright? I need to get the supplies, there right over here. It'll be quick."

"D-don't leave me...alone." manages Jason, quietly. Bruce looks at him, worry crossing his face.

"Your not alone, Jason. You never will be. Alfred's here, so is Dick, Tim, and Damian, and myself. I will be with you, no matter what." Jason's eyes were closed, and his breathing was shallow. He wasn't conscious, or maybe he was? Bruce gently lets go of Jason's hand, quickly getting the supplies. He gently gets Jason to uncurl, redoing the stitch that had come off.

"Bruce? What happened?" Says Dick, walking over into the room. His hair was sticking up, but his blue eyes were awake and alert.

"Jason." Dick's eyes widen.

"What happened? Did he wake up? Did he try to run away? Oh god, was that him screaming?" Bruce nods. He turns his head back to Jason, his tear streaked face peaceful once again.

"I don't know what happened, but I think I'll have Tim run some tests when he wakes up. He was crying. He asked me not to let him be alone when I was going to get the supplies. It seemed as if he was awake, but he was asleep."

"You w-wish." Says a quiet voice. Bruce smile's softly. Jason's eyes were open, although not fully from the painkillers in his system. Bruce and Dick gently help him get up, no commentary slipping past the first Robin's lips.

"Do you remember what happened?" Says Bruce.

"Specify." There were three events that Bruce considers. There was whatever fight Jason got into, him outside the manor, and his nightmare.

"What were you dreaming about." Jason's breath catches.

"I don't think it was a dream. I opened it eyes- it was dark, and cold. And I think I was in my coffin; you had left me, alone." Bruce could almost hear the invisible 'again'. At that moment, Alfred comes in with freshly baked chocolate-chip cookies and hit chocolate.

"Here, master Jason. If this may help more than an interrogation." Jason smiles, and then chuckles as Bruce's eye twitches- he had never found out how the butler was so stealthy and silent. The oven was the loudest thing in the house, spare the boys, and Bruce had been nagging the man to let him buy a new one, but the offer was turned down. And in the middle of the night he manages to bake cookies in less than a half hour- one mystery he could never solve.

"Alfred, I think you just made my day." Says Dick, mirth tracing his voice.

"They're MINE!" Snarls a voice.

"Nope- I'm older! I'll get there first!"

"I will chop off your limbs and leave you in a swimming pool." Tim and Damian shove and push until they reach the common room, where their nose's finely tuned to Alfred's sweet delicacies had led them.

"Jason! Your ali- I mean, awake." Says Tim. Jason smiles, although it seems a little bit defeated. He sips the cocoa.

"Yup, and I plan on for next few hours." There was a hidden...something in those words. Brice couldn't exactly identify it.

"Why didn't you come in?" Says Bruce. "Your always welcome, and more than when your bleeding in the cold." Jason looks away, distant. Sad.

"Didn't notice."

"Jason."

"You all looked like you were having a good time.And it was my fault anyway, I didn't want to ruin the perfect little moment you had, another one I didn't come to. I chose to not come, I chose to go after a drug dealing that was actually Joker and Scarecrow. I chose to be worthless, to be reckless, to be such a failure." He stops, taking in a few breaths. "And I chose to stay out there and die." He braces himself.

They all suddenly attack him with words. They mixed together, blending in. He couldn't tell what they were saying, opting to stare blankly instead. He knew they were trying to comfort him, to tell him what he already knew but refused to accept. That he was always welcome, he was their family, their brother, a son, a grandson. He fought the battle with himself everyday. Let himself not be alone ever again, always have someone to guide him, to teach him, to talk to. He wasn't pit mad anymore, he didn't kill...he just wanted to have a family again.

His eyes wet, and the volume suddenly decreases, becoming softer, hands shaking his shoulders. It all seems so...distant. He can see Tim running away to the Cave with a vial of Jasons blood- when had he gotten that? But even more, something was wrong, something was happening to him.

It was all fading, it all became black until he's a little kid again, a red headed kid with freckles. In front of him was his d-, no not his dad. His biological production helper person. He held a belt in one hand, a bottle of beer in the other.

"You' been uh bad boy" says his tormentor. Jason freeze's. It wasn't real it wasn't real. He was at the manor, with Bruce and Alfred and Dick and Tim and Damian. He wasn't here, in Crime Alley, no matter how damn real it felt.

The belt and scream felt real, though.

Hate me later


	5. Look On

The first thing that happened was Jason, finally, showing his feelings. And, that, thinks Bruce, was only the surface of the thoughts his son had. The next thing that happened had been the moisture glistening in Jason's blue eyes. His sons had been trying to comfort him with words when Jason just suddenly...stopped. Tim had quickly taken a blood sample with a needle and vial he'd gotten from who-knows-where...

And then the screaming had begun.

Bruce's eyes widen as Jason's back suddenly arches, his screaming joining sobs that occasionally escaped his mouth. "Bruce!" Yells Dick. They don't hesitate to put Jason flat on his back, bit not before a wild fist catches and lightly bruises Dicks arm, and rakes across Bruce's cheek. Dick holding down his legs, Bruce his arms, and Damian putting all his weight on his elder brothers torso as to ensure less movement.

"Sedative!" Yells Bruce. Alfred comes rushing in with a light blue liquid filled syringe. Bruce remembered when Tim had come to live at the manor, one of the first things he had done was create this serum. It had no effects on people with chemical's in their bloodstream, or with Bruce at the time, fear toxin. The only downside it had was that it had a slight stimulant in it, even though it was a sedative. It reduced the affects of the compound until a cure was administered, but also disabled the recipient from getting rest.

They wait a few moments before Jason's thrashing has been reduced, His eyes are shut, tears streaming down them. His mouth his parted, the screaming having died down to whimpering and sobs. Bruce brushes his hair with his hand, frowning as he feels a bit of unnatural warmth on his forehead.

Oddly enough, it's not Bruce who speaks first. No, he beat him to it.

"Todd." Says Damian. His face has softened, the usual scowl, anger, and ego wiped off and replaced with concern, care, and determination. "Todd. Jason." He outs his head on Jason's chest.

"Brother."

Jason's eyes slowly open. He parts his lips a little bit more, but then closes them. "I'm not there...am I? Oh, god..." he squeezes his eyes and moves to get up. Damian rolls off, not even commenting. In his opinion, he thought that Todd looked worst than before.

His skin was paler than it had been minuted ago, his forehead glistening with a thin sheen Of sweat, and-

"Did I do that?" Says Jason. He looks at Dick's blossoming bruise and the fresh line of surface cuts on Bruce's cheek.

"Oh, this?" Says Dick. "It was...the cookies." Jason's eyes lid a bit, too tired to raise his eyebrow. He could see the lie in his brother's eyes. He was an acrobat, a performer, a hero, and a brother, but he was not an actor. He could see it in his electric blue eyes- the burden of slight guilt, a hint of pity, and possibly fear.

Fear was the feeling Jason had right now, looking at the wounds.

"You out No-sleep in me, didn't you?" Says Jason, referring to the nickname to the complex sedative. Bruce nods. Jason just groans. "Great...can I, can I go to my...room?" Says Jason. "I mean, I just want some rest, and my beds more comfy than on this couch."

"Sure." Says Bruce, smiling a bit. Jason, feeling no shame at the moment, opens his arms. Bruce leans forward, picking up his second son, the first to call him 'dad'. Dick and Damian sit on the couches, silently knowing the two needed some alone time.

Jason was okay with having Brice carry him. His tears were dry, but the memories fresh. The sound and image of his fathers belt, coming down again and again and again...he needed someone to care for him, to love him, to actually treat him like a human being! And, in return, he just injured them. He was useless, he was a wayward Robin.

Bruce ticks Jason in before kissing him on the forehead, somehow knowing what Jason's nightmare's star had been. He smiles at Bruce as he closes the curtains, leaving the room. And Jason...he just feels all to guilty.

He only hurts him. He had tried to kill every. Single.One. Of. Them. Why couldn't they realize how dangerous he was, how he loved them too much to be with them. They thought he'd stay away because he didn't like them. He believed that at first when his Pit Madness reigned, but then he realized it was because if the Pit Madness. There was a par of him that realized the danger of himself..l and that danger had resurfaced.

Jason dismissed the feelings as he got up, tired. It would make the process quicker. He goes to his closet, opening it after a minute long journey from his bed. He opens a hidden drawer, filled with emergency weaponry- a handgun, cartridges, a collapsible do staff, a rapier, nunchucks, and a set of throwing knives.

He looks at the array, picking up the throwing knife- a gift from Damain. He hobbled to the bathroom, sitting down on the tiled floor, letting the cool seep in. He looks at a shaking wrist and a shaking hand with a shaking knife. Quickly, three deep red lines appear vertically down each arm.

Jason looks on.


	6. Chapter 6: Flecks

**So, I realized I had a few weeks gal between Ch 4 and 5, sl I rushes to make this one! I had also left myself on a cliffhanger, and now I'm a bit addicted to this fic I've written! And thank you for all that have reviewed, no what has happened to Jaybird now?**

Bruce sits downstair's, minutes after shutting the door to Jason's room. He sat at the table, savoring a cup of cinnamon spiced hot-chocolate, and sugar cookies gone cold with time. He felt his heartstrings pull as he realizes how Jason is bearing through the pain and the agony of mental torture on Christmas day.

Damian, Dick, amd Tim walk into the kitchen, Bruce not looking or speaking as they get some hot chocolate and cookies. "Tim...have you found out anything?" Says Bruce.

"Its still being analyzed" says Tim. "Its a mix of a series of compounds we already have registered in the database, as well as a few others. From what I uncovered, it has a mind stimulant. That's what explains the frequent memories. But, what I can't tell, is that why they seem so...dark. From what I just got from a compound, there's a compound that helps with psychological problems, like PTSD and depression."

"Hm", says Dick, rubbing his chin. His blue eyes meet Bruce's downcast deep blue ones. The acrobat could already see the elder's gears turning.

"A compound for psychological compounds, with a few others... thats a bit of a problem, now. We don't exactly know how it will affect the materials that we have already uncovered." He scotches his chair back. A strange paranoia was eating at his gut, getting stronger until he could ignore it no longer. He had... fear. Of what? He couldn't tell.

" Father?" Says Damian.

"I'm going to check on Jason." Says Bruce. "Try to see if the sedative has wore down enough." He exits the room, and reaches the staircase. The paranoia increases, and Bruce can't help but run up the stairs, four at a time, until he reached his second sons room.

'Okay, its been three minutes' thinks Bruce, wondering why he would think that.

"Jason?" Silence. He was probably asleep... better for him to stay with him and wake him up if another episode came. But, when he entered the room, there wasn't anyone in the bed. Bruce's eyes widen. The windows were sealed, but the closet door was open. He walks over, looking at the open drawing of weapons.

A gun, cartridge, nunchucks, collapsed bo staff, four throwing knifes...

There were supposed to be five.

"No!" whispers Bruce. He rushes to the open bathroom door, looking at the figure slumped against the wall, blood polled in the floor and soaking his pant legs. The arms were coated with still coming blood. "NO!" He shouts.

He rips of the jacket he was wearing, tearing it in two a quickly wrapping Jason's arms with them. But, seconds later, blood had already seeped through. Bruce picks him up, feeling his pulse. It was there, but slowing. He holds him gently, before rushing down the halls and to the staircase.

He looks down at Jason, as he sprints down the stairs, deep blue meeting flecked. "ALFRED! BOYS! THE CAVE, CODE RJ-SH-10!" He quickly rushes past the kitchen to the already open grandfather clock.

"Four minutes", mutters Bruce. He realizes what it meant- humans bleed to death in a minute and a half. He had ninety seconds.

He sets Jason down a gurney as Alfred rushes over, wheeling a cart of medical supplies. "How long?" Says Alfred with worry.

"Four minutes." Alfred's face pains. He gets a wet cloth and quickly cleans part of an arm before the wound seeps again.

"I...I'm am sorry, Master Bruce. It seems...an artery was nicked. And, its also deep."

"Alfred, I will not let him die...again! He will live, and I will not leave him alone, never again."

"I never said there was no option. There isn't enough time for stitches." Bruce solemnly nods.

"I...I understand." Alfred puts Jason into unconsciousness as Dick quickly hooks Jason to two blood bags.

'Five minute' thinks Bruce. He turns away as Alfred firmly holds one of Jason's arms down and brings a white hot knife down.


	7. Authors note (not the end!)

**Hey guys! Im so sorry for not updating this fic , which I do love very much! But, as all authors do, I have come at a bit of a crossroad.**

 **This fic has so many good paths it can take now, since the events of the latest chapter are so huge in the storyline of our beloved Jay-bird. I already have multiple drafts of the next chapter, but none of them _feels_ right. So I would love for...**

 **YOU to give me ideas! (Claps in background) So, feel free to suggest _any_ ideas of the next chalter or chap _ters_! All thoughts will be taken in and considered, or maybe combined! So, post suggestions under this chapter!**

 **Next chapter will be posted maybe a few days after I've gotten three suggestions (I know its a stretch, but, hey! I need my ideas!)**

 **-Red Wayne Hood**


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